


wildest dreams

by evanstans (sorrylovebut)



Category: The Song of Achilles - Madeline Miller
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Resolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-10
Updated: 2014-12-10
Packaged: 2018-02-28 21:02:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2746970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sorrylovebut/pseuds/evanstans
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>This is all his. This is Achilles as no one else has seen him. This is Achilles, the fastest boy in the world, tearing off his armor and stripping down to bare soul and bones. This is Patroclus, catching the stars that fall from Achilles’ chest and hands, and tucking them away with in his own heart for safekeeping.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	wildest dreams

Achilles grips him tightly, hand sliding up in a rough jerk. Patroclus can’t breathe with how good it is, how beautiful Achilles is. The fire roars in the background, flames flicking up from the smoking embers.

This is all his. This is Achilles as no one else has seen him. This is Achilles, the fastest boy in the world, tearing off his armor and stripping down to bare soul and bones. This is Patroclus, catching the stars that fall from Achilles’ chest and hands, and tucking them away with in his own heart for safekeeping.

This is Patroclus falling, falling further and deeper into the darkness that is loving someone he shouldn’t have. This is a thrust of his hips, a tightening of a hand, the sound of a moan echoing off the cave walls. The noises Achilles makes now reminds him off the first time Patroclus ever heard him play, and it’s the most beautiful orchestra he’s ever listened to.

This is a surging pleasure, the image of a beautiful boy playing behind his eyelids in sync with the symphony in his ears, his flesh hot and sensitive to the touch as he surrenders himself to white noise.

This, he thinks distantly. 

_This and this and this._

Achilles’ chest rises and falls rapidly when he slides down beside Patroclus’ body. The flames of the fire lick up the sides of the charred logs, casting flickering beats upon the cave walls.

“Gods,” Achilles mutters under his breath. Patroclus’ mind is still somewhere far off, and it’s only when Achilles seeks out his lips, soft flesh sliding together, that Patroclus is able to focus on the moment.

Achilles’ eyes shine as bright as the sun at the top of the mountain, but there is no reflection of flames in his eyes or heat reverberating from his touch. Patroclus realizes with a stuttering heart that this is all for him. _This._

Patroclus laughs, a small sound, but it is nonetheless reassuring to Achilles’ ears.

Achilles lays his head down on Patroclus’ shoulder, and they’re so _close_. Patroclus bends his elbow so he can tuck Achilles’ head even closer, fingers tangling in his sweaty hair. Achilles’ hand comes to rest over his stomach, their legs intertwining with each other in an effort to get as close as they can.

There is a part of Patroclus’ mind that believes this must still be a dream, a vision of sorts, and he dedicates himself to committing every part of this to his memory.

“Would you come away with me?” Achilles whispers once Patroclus’ breathing has slowed to a normal pace. His breath catches in his throat, slightly choked around the words.

“Would you?” Achilles murmurs, a gentle reminder and silent question. Patroclus turns his head, lips near Achilles’ forehead.

“Run away with you?” Patroclus says, conscious still trying to make sense of reality. Achilles makes a small noise of affirmation. “In a heartbeat.”

He can feel how Achilles’ heart thumps a little faster at the confirmation. It puts a feeling in the pit of his stomach that he couldn’t possibly describe.

“Then why should we not?”

Patroclus’ throat closes up. _Your mother,_ he wants to say. _The war, Chiron, your training;_ Patroclus thinks of everyone who could possibly stand in their way. His heart falls, but he does not dare crush Achilles’ spirits so swiftly.

“What fun would a life of hiding be?” Patroclus decides on. Achilles hums, a sign that Patroclus has made a valid point. Patroclus returns to watching the fire as a comfortable silence ensues. He thinks that maybe Achilles’ mind is much the same as his; not wanting to miss a moment of this new bliss.

“Do you-” Achilles pauses.

Patroclus hesitates before asking him to continue. “Yes, my love?”

He feels Achilles smile at the term. “Is there any part of you that regrets this?”

That word again. “This? No, my dear Achilles. This? I have never felt more alive than lying here with you.”

“Would you have me blushing like a virgin all night?” Achilles snorts. Patroclus smiles at the sound, lips crashing messily against Achilles’ own.

“You and I have a solid recollection of a few past events that would deem you far from a virgin, my love,” Patroclus says, sliding away from Achilles’ body to sit atop his thighs. Achilles’ hands attach to his hips, and Patroclus settles in comfortably, sitting in his lap without a quarrel.

Achilles sighs happily, head sagging against his makeshift pillow. “I must say, this is the prettiest picture I’ve ever laid eyes on.”

“Surely you must mean the stories the flames portray along the walls,” Patroclus snorts.

“No,” Achilles says softly, reaching up a hand to cradle Patroclus’ face. “I mean you. My beautiful, sweet boy. 

Patroclus pushes his hand into the touch. He reaches up his own hand to hold Achilles’, their fingers linking together gently. Patroclus can’t look anywhere but Achilles’ eyes, and Gods, he sees galaxies in them. He sees constellations upon constellations of stars, and he finds the truth in each one of them.

_This is loving you, Achilles,_ Patroclus thinks. _Loving you is an endless exploration of a multitude of universes._

_This is wanting to find every truth that lies in your eyes._ **_This._**

Patroclus lays beside him after that, smooth fabric against their thighs as they whispers. The ownership of their limbs is indistinguishable, and Achilles is intoxicated with every word that slips from his lover’s lips. Patroclus feels the darker parts of his soul fade to grey and then to complete white as Achilles talks of the things he wants for them. 

He smiles when Achilles' voice drifts off into the night. His breathing shallows out, his mouth falling open and forming a small gap between his lips. His disentangles himself from Achilles' hold, and stalks over to their fire.

“Loving you will be no easy task, Achilles,” Patroclus whispers before he extinguishes the flames. “But nothing will stop memories of you from following me around, even if we should happen to fall. I will love you till the end of time, Achilles. Do not ever doubt this, or I swear to the Gods that I will come back to haunt you when I’m gone.”

He smothers the flames, and the cave goes black.

**Author's Note:**

> find me on tumblr; ofthe107th.co.vu (precatfa.tumblr.com)


End file.
